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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25145986">The Lucky One</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoldendecade/pseuds/thegoldendecade'>thegoldendecade</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Lucky Ones [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Figure Skating RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Inspired by Taylor Swift, Singer!Tessa, Song: The Lucky One (Taylor Swift), VirtueMoir - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:48:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,697</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25145986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoldendecade/pseuds/thegoldendecade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been twelve years since PyeongChang and a decade since they last talked, when Scott left the country. He's a virtual unknown. Tessa's now a famous singer-songwriter. An unlikely reunion.</p>
<p>Future-fic inspired by Taylor Swift's "The Lucky One"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Scott Moir &amp; Tessa Virtue, Scott Moir/Tessa Virtue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Lucky Ones [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831591</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Lucky One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well, it's been a while since I've written anything here, but isolation and Taylor Swift are making me miss VirtueMoir, so here goes!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Let me tell you now, you're the lucky one</em>
</p>
<p>He doesn't know why it's taken him so long to see Tessa perform live. Sure, in her eight years of touring, this is the first time she's been in Florida, and despite being insanely popular around the world, she tours almost exclusively in Canada, but he could easily have travelled to see her. He'd be lying if he says he hasn't had to fight the urge to fly back anywhere in his home country, whether it's Vancouver or Montreal or even back home to London, just to see her in person. There's absolutely no guarantee that she'd even be willing to speak to him, though, and he doesn't know how to contact her. He hasn't tried.</p>
<p>He knows she was upset when he had left without warning, gotten married, and settled down in the U.S. At the time, he had thought that was what he wanted. He'd wanted a normal life, out of the public eye, and he had wanted a life partner and kids. That marriage had ended as quickly as the relationship began, and it's been ten years since he's had anything close to a family. The one thing that he has, though, is privacy. Scott Moir, one half of the most decorated ice dance team in Olympic history, has been almost entirely forgotten. Tessa, on the other hand, always the better half, had risen to more stardom than he could fathom. He had felt overwhelmed with the fame at the height of their careers. He can't even imagine what she's going through now.</p>
<p>Standing in the front row of her concert, he feels like a complete outsider among the crowd of mostly teenage girls. She had always inspired young girls to skate, and a decade after they've retired, she's still admired by the same demographic, just with her music, not her dance.</p>
<p>He has always thought that he's her biggest fan. Even years after he's stopped talking to her, he's bought all three of her albums, follows her journey intently on social media, and buys all her merchandise. Still, he feels distinctly out of place. Two girls standing behind him scream excitedly about how crazy it is to see Tessa Virtue just a few feet away from them, and they jump up and down as they consider the possibility that she might actually <em>see</em> them. He, on the other hand, is enthralled to see her, but also beyond nervous that she might notice him right at the front of the crowd.</p>
<p>He doesn't know how she feels about him. She has every right to be angry and upset with him, but it would almost be even worse if she doesn't care. It would mean that she's moved on. Put that part of her life behind her. She was always destined for greater things, and throughout her life, she has always channelled her fame to help others. He had run away with medals and memories.</p>
<p>Not for the first time today, he wonders whether he should have bought tickets somewhere farther back. He doesn't need to be a few feet away from her to be proud and happy for her. Now, every time she looks over to her left, he's terrified that she might recognize him in the crowd. He averts his eyes again as she glances over in his general direction, nodding to the beat of the drums as she pauses for the guitar interlude.</p>
<p>Yeah, this was a bad decision. He would have enjoyed it more from a few rows behind.</p>
<p>He cheers along with the rest of the crowd as she finishes singing yet another song, and he knows that there's only one song left. He's memorized the track listing of her newest album, and all her other albums, too. The last song is his favourite out of all of her songs. Something about it touched something deep inside him, and the first time he had listened to it, he had felt a striking sense of familiarity.</p>
<p>"This last song is about someone very special," she announces over the deafening roar of the crowd. They start to calm down, listening to her every word. "Someone who was a big part of my life, a long, long time ago. Someone who was, and still is, 'The Lucky One'."</p>
<p>The crowd cheers before quickly quieting down as the familiar drum beat begins, and she smiles out at her fans, scanning her eyes over thousands of people. She starts to sing, and he smiles at the familiar melody. The girls around him sing (or more accurately, scream) along, so he joins in, jumping up and down along with them.</p>
<p>Tessa looks out into the crowd as she sings the first verse, and he recognizes her expression as a little wistful. Most people wouldn't notice it, but despite having not been near her for years, he's known her long enough and she's never changed. She stares out at the fans all in front of her, smiling at a few and looking around.</p>
<p>As she finishes the chorus, he notices that her eyes are darting around, which hadn't happened in the previous songs she had sung. Is she nervous? That was something she used to do when she was nervous before competitions, early in their careers, before they had mastered controlling their emotions and mindset. But she can't possibly be nervous, she's been performing for large crowds her whole life. Is she alright?</p>
<p>He notices her expression turn markedly sadder, almost longing. It's a subtle shift, but he's noticed that as she's gotten older, she's become worse at concealing her emotions, at least to him. "<em>And they tell you that you're lucky, but you're so confused</em>," she sings, and <em>that</em> hits him harder than it had when he was just listening to her studio recording.</p>
<p>Fame had never really been for him. He had loved skating, <em>still</em> loves skating, but the more medals they won, the more attention they had gotten, and PyeongChang was his breaking point. Tessa had always been so composed, so classy with all the attention, and she had flourished, even more so now than ever. Everyone had told them how amazing they were, that they deserved all the recognition in the world, and she had taken it all with a smile, but he had just felt... uneasy. He didn't know how to describe the feeling, but maybe her song was right, <em>confused</em> was a good word for it.</p>
<p>She begins to sing the chorus, and everyone around him screams enthusiastically along, "<em>And they'll tell you now, you're the lucky one,</em>" and he wonders whether she's singing about herself. He thinks she's pretty lucky, although in truth, he knows that everything she's gotten in life is because of her own skill and tenacity. Nothing that she has is unearned. She works harder than anyone else in the world.</p>
<p>She smiles out at the crowd as she sings, and it makes him smile, too. Long gone are his worries that she might somehow spot him in the crowd. That was an irrational concern; even if she does glance in his direction, which she has, several times, there's no way she would be able to distinguish him among all the other fans around him. So when she does look over to her left, he doesn't look away, instead marvelling at her natural performance ability, how she practically sparkles onstage. He smiles wistfully, thinking, not for the first time, about how different things could have been if he had stayed by her side instead of running away to another country without notice.</p>
<p>And, oh, he sees — and hears — her breath hitch the moment before she begins the third verse, and to anyone else, it would have sounded like another deep breath before singing, but he sees her stiffen just slightly, and her eyes widen just a little, and she <em>almost</em> misses her cue to come in, but she doesn't, and now she's looking right at him as she sings.</p>
<p>"<em>It was a few years later, I showed up here, and they still tell the legend of how you disappeared,</em>" and the crowd sings along as he stands there, frozen, unable to look away, because oh, how he had missed looking into those green eyes, which are now looking just a bit sadder, and glistening a little, although he might be imagining it from all the stage lights.</p>
<p>She blinks and finally looks away before continuing, "<em>How you took the money and your dignity and got the hell out,</em>" and he looks away, too, because <em>that</em> feels personal. He hopes it isn't. Is it? She couldn't possibly have had him in mind when she wrote this song, almost ten years later. He's just being delusional. She's probably all but forgotten about him, with all the success she's developed over the years without him.</p>
<p>She doesn't look back in his direction for a few more moments, until she starts singing again. "<em>'Cause now my name is up in lights, but I think you got it right,</em>" and amid all the girls jumping around him, he can tell she's pointing right at him.</p>
<p>"<em>Let me tell you now, you're the lucky one</em><em>,</em>" and he doesn't know how to process what he's experiencing, because he's ninety-nine percent sure that this song is about <em>him</em>, and he hadn't even had a clue, even though he's probably listened to it over a hundred times. All he knows is that she's looking right at him, pointing at him, and everyone around him is screaming wildly because they think she's looking at them, but none of <em>them</em> had been her partner for twenty-two years, but <em>he</em> had, <em>he</em> was the one who had somehow been lucky enough to have her in his life, and why had he left at all? <em>He's</em> the lucky one, and he should have known it all along.</p>
<p>The screaming around him impossibly increases in volume as she strums the final chord on her guitar, letting it hang on her body as she lets her hands go to make a heart shape, before pointing it right in his direction. All the girls around him start doing the same, jumping up and down as they extend their own hands in various malformed heart shapes, and he doesn't know how to react, he <em>can't</em> react, so he just waves dumbly. Before he can even register how silly that is, she waves back, just a little wave with her fingers, her eyes sparkling with a smile.</p>
<p>Of course, that makes everyone around him scream even louder, reaching out as if they can somehow touch her. For a moment, he wonders if she'll run across, reaching out to all the hands in the front row, as he knows pop stars sometimes do, but she backs up, yells out a "thank you, Miami!" and disappears backstage.</p>
<p>His head is spinning, maybe a little from the ringing in his ears from the noise of the crowd, but likely because he still can't believe what has just happened. Tessa had looked at him, she had <em>waved</em> at him, and she had <em>smiled</em>, and she had <em>written a whole song about him</em>.</p>
<p>His phone buzzes violently in his pocket, notifying him that he has new Instagram messages, and as he unlocks his phone, he wonders who it could be. Some people knew that he was attending Tessa's concert, so maybe they're asking him for photos. Instead, when he opens the app, he almost drops his phone as he sees that the messages are from Tessa's official account, the one with a <em>hundred million </em>followers, and sent to his <em>anonymous</em> fan account. At first, he doesn't question how she had somehow found his account, but he reads her messages with shaky hands.</p>
<p>
  <em>Hey</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Meet me backstage?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tell the security guard at the exit near you that you're looking for me</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>If she asks for a password, tell her the number of years we skated together.</em>
</p>
<p>Twenty-two, he thinks. He looks around quickly, seeing a security guard standing at an exit not too far away from him. He pushes through the slowly-moving crowd, arriving at the exit and realizing that there are two guards there.</p>
<p>"Um, hi," he says hesitantly. "I'm looking for Tessa?"</p>
<p>One of the guards, a burly man almost a foot taller than him, looks down at him and frowns. "I'm sorry, but —"</p>
<p>Scott quickly starts to say, "twenty-two", but the second guard, a friendlier-looking woman about his height, cuts him off. "Scott Moir! I'd recognize you anywhere. Tessa's looking for you. I can take you to her."</p>
<p>She smiles, gesturing for him to follow her, as she leads him down a hallway past the exit, leaving the other guard to secure the exit. As he follows her, his mind races. What will he say to her? What will <em>she</em> say to him? Is she upset? She seemed pretty happy onstage, but she has to keep her composure in front of her fans. He knows that if he was in her position, he would be pretty upset, but Tessa's always been the stronger of the two of them.</p>
<p>Lost in his thoughts, he doesn't even notice as he enters a modestly sized dressing room, furnished with not much more than a few couches. He stops abruptly, blinking as he notices his new surroundings. He looks around the brightly lit room, hearing silence all around him.</p>
<p>He's been preparing himself for this moment for the last few minutes, but all the years that they've been apart couldn't have prepared him to see Tessa barrelling in from a door across the room, launching herself into his arms with a cry of "Scott!"</p>
<p>All he can do is hug her tighter, closing his eyes as he realizes how <em>right</em> this feels, and not for the first time, he can't remember why he had ever left. He breathes in deeply and he's overwhelmed with memories. With his eyes closed, she smells and feels just the same in his arms, like no time has passed at all. He can almost imagine they're on the ice in PyeongChang, right in the moment when he <em>knew</em> they had won. He opens his eyes, reminding himself of when and where he actually is.</p>
<p>"Tessa— I can't believe— I—"</p>
<p>"<em>God</em>, I missed you, Scott," she cuts him off, and the sound of her voice just makes his heart ache all over again. It's her, she's really in his arms again, and he can't even think. Just feel.</p>
<p>She takes a shuddering breath that he feels all through his body, from his arms tightly wrapped around her, slung over her shoulders, down to his chest, pressed right against her own, rising as she breathes in, all the way down to his toes, tingling at the sensation of having her so close to him.</p>
<p>"Are you mad at me?" He whispers, savouring the moment of warmth around him as he braces himself to feel her pulling away from him.</p>
<p>Instead, she pulls him closer to her. "Scott," she breathes, "I would never be mad at you for choosing what was best for you. You chose happiness."</p>
<p>He smiles sadly, feeling at peace knowing that she supported his decision, but regretting his choice because it <em>hadn't</em> been what was best for him. He wishes she had resisted, tried to get him to stay in Canada. "Thank you," he replies simply, not knowing how to express everything he's feeling.</p>
<p>She pulls away from him to look him in the eye, but he looks down, knowing that his emotions will come spilling out if he looks in those green eyes of hers. "How is she?" She asks with a small smile.</p>
<p>He starts to look up. "She— ?" He looks down again, realizing her meaning. "We... it didn't work out, um. I haven't seen her in years. I've just been living alone here. It's alright, I'm not that lonely, I—" He cuts himself off as he realizes that he's starting to ramble.</p>
<p>"Oh," she says softly, wrapping her arms around him again. "I'm sorry."</p>
<p>He can tell she truly means it. "It's okay," he replies with a small smile. "I'm okay."</p>
<p>She doesn't say anything for a moment, and he knows she is, like him, still processing everything that's happening. He still feels like his head is spinning. His heart rate hasn't calmed down yet, and it probably won't, as long as she's still near him. Everything still feels surreal.</p>
<p>"I can't believe you came to my concert," she says, angling herself back with her hands on his shoulders so she can get a good look at his face. "And I can't believe I actually saw you in the crowd!"</p>
<p>He grins, a sparkle in his eye that she knows means that he's about to tease her. "But you were looking for me," he counters, and she blushes, unable to deny it.</p>
<p>"I... I knew you were coming," she replies, then quickly adds on as she notices his expression turn into something that she can't deal with right now, something soft and vulnerable and full of locked-away memories of suppressed feelings and fleeting touches. "And I'd say it was because I knew that after all these years, you'd always be here for me, but no, you posted on Instagram that you were going to be here, so I knew to look for you."</p>
<p>"Oh," he says, then laughs heartily, and that expression all but vanishes. "Oh, yeah. How did you know that was me?"</p>
<p>She shrugs. "You supported me from day one. There were lots of hints over the years, but I just knew."</p>
<p>"And if it wasn't?"</p>
<p>"But it was."</p>
<p>He laughs again, and he can't remember feeling this carefree ever since he'd left. Since he'd left <em>her</em>.</p>
<p>"I missed you a lot, you know," she says, her expression softening. "A lot."</p>
<p>"I know," he replies softly, but she notices the same sparkle in his eye, and he grins mischievously. "You even wrote a song about me."</p>
<p>Her cheeks turn pink as she covers her face with her hands. "Scott," she means for it to come out as an exasperated whine, but it's soft and breathy.</p>
<p>His heart flutters and he fills with warmth, hearing her say his name again, after all these years, but he swallows down any lingering old (and new) feelings and smiles. "It was really cute, you know. It was one of my favourite songs before I even figured out it was about me."</p>
<p>"When did you figure it out?" She asks, still not looking at him, and he can see her blush spreading all the way to her shoulders.</p>
<p>He laughs. "Honestly, I had no idea before today. But someone who was a big part of your life a long time ago? I hoped, obviously, and then I wondered, but then you saw me, and... I can't believe I hadn't figured it out sooner, T."</p>
<p>She nods, looking up at him. "You are... you're so lucky, Scott. You..." She pauses. "You just get to be yourself, live your own life, and no one's worrying about what you'll do next, you know?" He wants to reply, but he doesn't know what to say, and she continues. "I love singing, and I loved skating. Still do. And I love that I have a platform that I can use to help others. But it's... it's exhausting, Scott."</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," he replies softly, hugging her gently to comfort her. He knows how she feels. The whole reason why he had left was because he couldn't handle being in the spotlight from skating. He can't even imagine what she's going through now.</p>
<p>She hugs him back, resting her head on his shoulder. "With skating, I could handle it." She admits. "We had each other. But now..." She trails off, not wanting to make him feel at fault, but he understands the implication, and he's felt guilty about it for ten years.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry, T," he repeats, this time with her acknowledgement weighing heavy on him. "I should've been there for you. I shouldn't have left. I'm sorry."</p>
<p>"It's not your fault, Scott," she tells him, but it doesn't make him feel any better. "We both retired. You had the right to choose your own life."</p>
<p><em>But now the only life I want to choose is with you,</em> he thinks, but he doesn't say it out loud, because it's a heavy feeling that he's grown to accept, but he doesn't need to put it on her. At least not right now. She's shocked enough just from seeing him.</p>
<p>Instead, he smiles a little. "I think I want to move back home, though."</p>
<p>"Scott," she exclaims, surprised by his nonchalance. "Scott, you really don't have to. Or... unless you want to?"</p>
<p>"I've been thinking about it for a while," he admits, "I want to reconnect with everyone back home. I want to reconnect with <em>you</em>."</p>
<p>Her smile betrays her instantly. He can see how happy his words make her, and he's already made his decision. She falters for a moment, frowning slightly. "Scott, I don't live in London anymore."</p>
<p>"I know," he replies easily, "I've been thinking about buying a place in Toronto. I've been living in a big city for years; I don't mind it. And if it means I'll be closer to you..."</p>
<p>He leaves the implication hanging, because he doesn't really know how to explain how he feels in a way that isn't overwhelming. He hasn't even <em>seen</em> her in ten years, let alone been close enough to her recently to move a thousand kilometres away just to be near her more often. But he's missed her, he's missed her more than he could have ever thought possible, and upon seeing her again, he doesn't want to be apart again.</p>
<p>"Scott," she says quietly, knowing how his impulsiveness is driven by his emotions. "I know how much you miss me, because I miss you just as much, if not more. But it's been a long time since we've seen each other. We're not the same people as we were ten years ago. You have to think about this with your head, not your heart."</p>
<p>It's not quite a warning, but it feels like one. He's still riding on the emotional high of seeing her, and he needs to thinking logically before he makes any big decisions. He still regrets the last time he moved away, not realizing what he was leaving. Who he had left.</p>
<p>He nods and looks down to where his hand has been gently holding hers for several minutes. He hadn't even noticed. It just feels natural. He runs his thumb gently up and down her palm, feeling her fingers with his. They feel a little rougher than he remembers, probably from playing the guitar so often. They still fit perfectly between his own.</p>
<p>"Scott?" She squeezes his hand lightly, and he looks up. "Scott, I'm sorry, I have to get back to my trailer soon." She looks apologetic, and her eyes fill with sadness. "I really wish I could stay longer."</p>
<p>He tries to let go of her hand, nodding in understanding, but her index and middle fingers stay tightly interlocked with his by her own accord. She doesn't want to let go yet. He wants to say something, but he can't find the right words, so he says, "I'll give you my number? So we can keep in touch."</p>
<p>She reaches for her pocket, then frowns. "I left my phone in my trailer. I'll give you mine?"</p>
<p>He nods, reaching over with his left hand into his right pocket, because he still can't bring himself to let go of her hand in his right hand. He opens the messaging app and hands it over to her, and she types in her number, one-handed, and send a message that's just a red heart emoji. He smiles, because it's just so <em>Tessa</em>, and he wonders again why he had ever left.</p>
<p>"Okay," she says quietly, "I'll see you soon?"</p>
<p>He smiles. "You know it. I'm so proud of you, T."</p>
<p>She starts to pull her hand away from his, taking a step back, but suddenly, she's pressed against him in a hug, and he immediately goes to the crook of her neck, breathing in and just <em>feeling</em>. He can feel her heart beating against his own chest, racing in time with his, and she's so warm and comforting that he doesn't know how he'll let go. It's when she whispers something that sounds like <em>I'll miss you</em>, or maybe it's <em>I love you</em>, that he finally does, but not before squeezing her tightly, quickly, and pressing a ghost of a kiss to her temple. Her breath hitches but she doesn't say anything except a soft "bye, Scott," and then her hand finally pulls away from his, and she leaves out the back door.</p>
<p>He doesn't leave until the friendly security guard comes back and asks him to.</p><hr/>
<p>She's finally back in Toronto on a bright sunny day three months later, exhausted from touring, and she can barely stand upright as she exits the elevator of her condo onto her floor, muscle memory guiding her back to her unit. She stops in front of her door as she notices dozens of flowers surrounding her front door, and she looks at the unit number, wondering if she had stopped at the wrong floor.</p>
<p>Her fatigued mind still doesn't understand if she's in the right place when her neighbour's door opens quickly and someone runs out, yelling, "Welcome home, T!"</p>
<p>She blinks a few times, realizing that this isn't the grumpy old lady who was the reason that she couldn't play music late at night or at the crack of dawn, and she finally notices who's in front of her.</p>
<p>"Scott?"</p>
<p>"Surprise, I'm your new neighbour!"</p>
<p>She laughs as he picks her up in a hug. "God, you're funny, Scott!" She's surprised by the joke, but the flowers make her heart flutter.</p>
<p>He frowns slightly, looking her in the eye. "No, seriously, T, I'm your new neighbour," he explains, watching her expression carefully. It changes a thousand times at once, and he can see her mind racing to understand. She's skeptical, confused, shocked, concerned, and elated.</p>
<p>Finally, she hugs him again and laughs. "Scott, you're insane, have I ever told you that?"</p>
<p>He laughs, too. "Just determined, T. You have no idea how fast I moved once I was able to buy this place."</p>
<p>She can just imagine him, getting home since the last time they saw each other months ago, and immediately contacting the building owner, despite her asking him to think carefully. She had texted him her address, in case he ever came to Toronto to visit, but she had no idea he was going to use that information to <em>live</em> next to her. Yet it's exactly the sort of thing she would expect him to do. He hadn't changed at all.</p>
<p>"Thank you," she says happily. "For the flowers," she clarifies, but she's really also thanking him for being here with her, and for a million other things that she can't succinctly put into words.</p>
<p>He shrugs. "You wrote a song about me, it's the least I can do." He grins. "Come on, I made you a chocolate cake! Let's celebrate that you're back, and that we're neighbours now!"</p>
<p>She doesn't think she could be happier, but she is, because how could she say no to chocolate?  How could she ever say no to <em>him</em>? He takes her hand in his and eagerly pulls her through his front door, ready to show her his creation, and she's never felt more at home with him. She has a feeling they're going to be spending a lot of time together. In fact, she already knows their two neighbouring units are going to become one, and what happens after that, well, they'll just have to wait and see.</p>
<p>She might've been writing about him, but she knows now she's the lucky one.</p>
<p>
  <em>Let me tell you now, you're the lucky one</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! I hope you're all doing well and staying safe! We're slowly getting through this together :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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